


Blending Blue and Red

by words_are_like_colors



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marriage, Metaphorical, its still good, not much action but bleh, sarumi fest 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 05:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11411598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/words_are_like_colors/pseuds/words_are_like_colors
Summary: "Tearing my eyes away, I went to open up my binder when something caught my eye. Red stood out against the blue of the sky and when I squinted, the red had turned into a surfboard that was propped up in the white sand. The contrast in colors almost made me cringe, especially when red was not of my least favorite colors. It's too bright, lively, fiery to be put into a calm drawing; it's the complete opposite of my favorite color, which is incidentally blue, and fought against my forcefully maintained aesthetic. The color was just unwanted but there it was, standing out in the pale sand and against the surrounding blues."





	Blending Blue and Red

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally intended to be called “5... 4.... 3... 2... 1...” because each section is based of random words (first section five words, etc) but I decided that “Blending Blue and Red” would be a better title. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated due to the fact that I edited this myself. Also, this may be my only entry for SarumiFest 2017 but that might change, we just have to wait and see :) Enjoy!!

****Five Words****  
Color: Blue  
Object: Binder  
Feeling: Breathtaking  
Setting: Beach  
Describe: Beautiful  
✧✧✧

All I needed was a blue binder to change this unnecessary beach trip into a worthwhile activity... or at least an activity away from obnoxious follow classmates. The blue umbrella above me seemed to coalesce into the sky as I gazed up at it, halfway through pulling out the binder from my bag. __That would be a beautiful color to make__ , I thought. If shade wasn't applied, I would have thought that I was staring up at a clear sky instead of the underside of the umbrella which had become my safe haven from the sun. 

Tearing my eyes away, I went to open up my binder when something caught my eye. Red stood out against the blue of the sky and when I squinted, the red had turned into a surfboard that was propped up in the white sand. The contrast in colors almost made me cringe, especially when red was not of my least favorite colors. It's too bright, lively, __fiery__ to be put into a calm drawing; it's the complete opposite of my favorite color, which is incidentally blue, and fought against my forcefully maintained aesthetic. The color was just unwanted but there it was, standing out in the pale sand and against the surrounding blues. 

Even though my mind was against this outrageous color, my body fought against it and my fingers were already ripping open my pen box to retrieve a pencil while prying open the binder to a new page. The fresh page was quickly becoming ruined by quick lines and smooth curves, all of which would become to mold the scene before me; a lone red in a sea of blue. 

It was breathtaking, the way I work. I've been told that hundreds of times of times but it is a miracle when I, myself, see the art before me as breathtaking. The screams and cheers of those playing were deaf to the sound of my pencil hitting the paper and drawing out this unwanted beauty. Difference is hated but it's also beautiful. Without difference, there is no norm; without norm, there is no difference. 

The norm was the beach, the difference was the surfboard. The object fitted the scene, yes, but the raw color of it did not... but because difference __is__ the norm. We couldn't have this scene if there were no difference in it. It wouldn't be special if it did not have the stark red in it. It wouldn't be breathtaking if it did not hold this significance in it. It wouldn't be--

"Whoa. Whatcha' drawing?... wait, is that my surfboard?" A sudden voice pulled me out of where I was engrossed in my thoughts back to reality. The voice is unexpected but genuine so I look up. 

It was like I didn't looked up at all. All I saw was red in a sea of blue. His hair is ruffled and sticking out in weird places, forcing the orange-red out. His pink, lightly freckled cheeks gave off a boyish look to his complexion. But let's not forget his eyes: bright, shining, lively, and __fiery__. This boy's eyes were perfect; a mix of reds, ambers, and oranges gave off a light glow and the pleasant feeling you get when sitting in front of a calm fire. 

"Hey, you okay?" His voice brought me back again but this time I replied. 

"I'm alright. So you're the owner of that surfboard?" I pointed over to it and the boy nodded.

"Yep! It's my pride and joy. And I see you drawing it-- you're really good!" He let out a short laugh. "I'm Yata by the way." 

I noticed the name... or lack of one. __So you're just full of differences, aren't you?__ "Just Yata?" 

'Just Yata' frowned which but it turned into a cute pout. "I just don't like my name. Okay? But what's yours?" 

Before I could hold myself back, the words fell from my lips. "Fushimi Saruhiko." 

"Oooo..." 'Just Yata' nodded. "Nice to meet you, Fushimi. I--"

A thunk on the ground made us both jump but instead of a threat like our minds perceived, it was just a piece of ice pop that had fallen from the majority of it. The two ice pops that I neglected to notice that he was holding were blue and red... coincidence?

* * *

****Four Words****  
Color: Purple/blend  
Object: words/books  
Feeling: bittersweet  
Setting: bookstore  
✧✧✧

Being snuggled in a puffy plum chair reading a purple covered book in a bookstore on friend meet up was how I was spending my evening off. The book in my hands had a special blend of bittersweet; just like the perfect blend of the color that I was sitting on. Both bittersweet and purple are blends of two differences-- something full, blue mixed with something painful, red. 

While contrasts are an unwanted beauty, blends are a perfect compromise. 

"Fushimi!" Yata cheered as he bounded towards me through the bookshelves with another purple covered book. "I found something to read. Guess what it is?" 

"What?" A small smile lifted on my lips as his uplifting nature enthralled me. 

"Apparently-" He fell into the chair across from me and kicked his feet up onto the short table. "-a distant man falls in love with this out-going women. Ha! You know that I wouldn't read romantic novels but this one looks nice and sweet." He shrugged and opened the book. 

People have given Yata and I comments that we have both changed since a month ago when we first meet on the beach. I don't disagree. We feed off each other... No, more like we syphon aspects off of each other. 

His red to my blue; sweet to my bitter; sociableness to my withdrawnness; fire to my sea. We blend; purple, bittersweet, our relationship, the drawing. Even though the blend can be inconsistent at times, it's still a perfect compromise. His charisma rubs away at my stiffness which in turn grounds him and keeps him at my side. 

Our "purple" is perfect as it is now but at times, I wonder if we could blend our colors more...

* * *

****Three Words****  
Color: Red  
Object: Fire  
Feeling: anger/passion  
✧✧✧

There is a thing about the red fire that lives in his eyes: it's easily lit. The wrong word, the wrong action can stroke the flames and making explodes. Sparkles fly just to land and burn holes in the surroundings. 

I was the one who said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing. To be honest, I did not mean to say it that way. I did not mean it to rub him the wrong way. Without the sea, the fire would rage. Without the blue, the red would burst. 

The conversation wasn't suppose to go into that territory. 

Blurting out your inner fire for the person before you right when you were about to leave for a month long trip could either be bitter or sweet, but it had turned out to be the former. Misaki was pissed, his fire had been lit. He had been on the brick of telling me that he has a crush on me and that he was about to let his sea overflow when I dropped the news of my departure. Misaki had gotten the message wrong-- he assumed the news of me leaving was of me running away from him. I wasn't running from him. I tried to explain but he wouldn't understand until I told him my feelings. 

"Misaki." I was torn from wanting to hold him and staying back to protect myself. "I like you too, alright?" 

"What?" The angry look his face shifted into an confused one, his beautiful eyes wide. 

I let out a slow deep breath before repeating my words, "I. Like. You. A lot. I am not running from you, quite the opposite. It's just that this trip is part of my college art career." 

But there is another thing about the red fire that burns in his eyes: not all fire bursts and explodes. Some shimmer, some breathe, some wither. His eyes could become a sea of fire, both rage and passion. 

Although now, his eyes is an overflowing sea that he had siphoned from me. Blue drops were pouring over his cheeks as the words sank in. But his fire was not lost, it instead settled in the kiss that had fallen on my lips and trembled through my veins. I felt the spark at each pull of our lips and where my hands held him. We were blending, his red for my blue and that was good. It was his unwanted, unexpected beauty that had pulled me from my somber lonely norm and made me different. Even an unwanted beauty can sometimes be wanted.

* * *

****Two Words****  
Color: Black  
Object: Ink  
✧✧✧

The black ink travels across the page, seeping and filling in the sketch. Black is elegant but it's a sweeping monster as it absorbs and pulls in colors when it rolls past. It's not overwhelming but at the same time it's not comforting. While it fills in the unimportant crevices, it also fills in the important ones.

The train jolted, making my pen slip and slid across the page. I curse but the damage was already done. The month long trip away from Misaki was suffocated, and the only thing to keep me sane was my blue binder full of drawing. I had originally intended it to be filled with mindless blue drawings but now each page was covered in things that reminded me of Misaki and the things that he likes; the binder had become my connection to him. 

Although black is usually associated with grief, I have found another meaning: loneliness. This was the only hole that black ink could not cover. My life has been masked in bleak memories and black portraits, the majority of it at least. The discovery of art and drawing talents brought me some color but it was just shades of depressing blue. Even when I found this talents, my life and heart were still empty. 

I won't go on saying that Misaki brought me from the darkness and into the light like some bullshit romance story... but he opened up the gateway for change. 

If to put my life into different colors, the recent years was when I gained them all. The struggle and the prospect that I could lighten someone's world with a few lines brought me from the black and into the ever-deepening blue. Misaki's unwanted beauty gave me a red which rivaled the ones of my blue. The friendship between us had mixed up a purple that was not intended to happen. 

I thought all of this as I stared at the surfboard drawing I turned to. This was the only drawing that I had not inked and finalized; there were crevices that I did not want to fill which made this drawing special. It was different from the rest.

That's what made me fall for Misaki-- he's __different__. Never had someone with so much passion and fire hid it behind a bright smile and beautiful eyes. The most important thing was that he was look at __me__ , telling __me__ how grand myself and my art was without any bias. Misaki was the fire that pushed through the ink.

* * *

****One Word****  
Color: White  
✧✧✧

Opposites.  
The opposite of black is white.  
The opposite of lonely is friendship.  
The opposite of blue is red.  
The opposite of sea is fire.  
The opposite of norm is difference.  
The opposite of me is Misaki. My love was standing before me so handsome and beautiful. He had just let go of his mother who had walked him down the aisle per his request. Gorgeous orange-red eyes slowly met mine, then he broke. The same nerves that held me and shaken to my bones were reflected when he suddenly flung himself into my arms. 

He jumped up and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, his hair brushing against my cheek. I couldn't help but laugh with the rest of the audience at his action "Idiot, you have to wait until after the kiss," I whispered but he shook his head and hugged me tighter before letting go and backing up. 

"Sorry! I had too."

I gazed at him lovingly as the minister started to speak but his words were lost to me. Misaki's hands were in mine and he was shaking... I have to admit I was too. I am marrying Misaki. The urge to lean in and kiss him before the ceremony had ended was strongly present but this has to be waited out and be done correctly.

Marriage and love had always seemed redundant and unnecessary to me, an annoying inconvenience, but now I see why people fall in love and why it's so important-- Misaki has shown me that over the couple years. He had shown me things great and small, beautiful and glorious. Finding someone so different than myself and others was how I fell in love with him. If he never owned a stark red surfboard, I would have never met him and found my red and purple.

I'm now in the middle of saying my vows; each word and phrase was heavily laced with this metaphor of norms and differences, blues and reds. Tears started to roll down my beloved's cheeks. "... Misaki, you have shown me what it means to love and be loved. You are the red to my blue but if I had to pick a color for my feeling right now, it would be white. White contains every color, everything. You have given me everything, your love, your red, your heart. You have given me meaning to myself and to my life, I am eternally grateful. Thank you for being my unwanted beauty."

A grand hush fell upon the room at my last words. Misaki's eyes are wide and swimming, his sea leaking and slowing flowing down his cheeks. His hands are clenched around my own, the pain didn't matter as Misaki hiccuped. I love him.

The minister hesitantly rambled on until Misaki cut him off with a yell. "Fuck this shit. Kiss me now. I love you too much." this brash fiery spirit finally revealed itself. He had become a sea of fire.

I complied and kissed him. His cheeks are wet as I held them, abandoning his hands at the command. The formality of the wedding didn't matter to me anymore as I kissed my love. I started to cry too, and for the first time in my life they were happy tears as my heart swelled. 

"I love you too, Misaki."

Blends.  
Two contrasts make a perfect compromise.  
Bitterness and sweetness makes bittersweetness.  
Blues and reds makes purples. 

Love is not red or pink, but white... white like the sand between the surfboard and the sky.


End file.
